Nightingale
by ceruleanblues
Summary: Semi-canon. "Go, have adventures, see the world," he murmured. "Just come back to me."


**A/N:** So…yes, I'm actually feeling really guilty for writing this because I have a list of unfinished stuff for my Fabrevans fics that I really shouldn't be procrastinating on, but I have a very persistent and extremely persuasive friend (*coughs* Sneakercladbrunette *coughs*) who wouldn't be deterred, so blame her for this oneshot!

Enjoy!

xXx  
CeruleanBlues

* * *

 **Nightingale**

 **I can't sleep tonight  
Wide awake and so confused  
Everything's in line  
But I am bruised**

Caroline was tired; so tired, she felt the exhaustion seeping into her bones, and wondered for the umpteenth time since her new existence when it was all going to end. It was a constant vicious cycle of compulsions and killings and death, she reckoned her skin was permanently tinged in crimson. She grew wary with the days, always too quick to be suspicious of strangers, and truly she could use a break every now and then. Somehow or another, there was never a shortage of people and/or supernatural beings wanting to end her life, or for that matter, use her as bait, and she was sick of it.

New Orleans was supposed to be her salvation; her home away from home, and all the drama that it entailed. She needn't have to deal with Elena Gilbert and her perpetual love-triangle with the Salvatore brothers, or the fact that she was regularly overlooked for her efforts, or the fact that her best friend, Bonnie hadn't even acknowledged her existence after returning from the Prison World. When she had all but packed up her mere necessities and left to take up on an offer she couldn't refuse any longer, nobody had even batted an eyelash.

Nobody cared.

The new city had been promising; a breath of fresh air.

What she didn't expect, however, was the metaphorical slap to her face when she saw the relationship-wrecker of a werewolf strutting down Bourbon Street as if she owned the whole fucking place. It would've been easy to tear her heart out, skin all that fur alive and end that suffering whore for getting herself knocked up with her ex-boyfriend's spawn, but Caroline knew enough of the rules not to cause a scene. She wasn't the dumb girl everybody thought her to be. Besides, last she heard, Tyler had been exiled to the Appalachians—yet again—for being the idiot that he was and attempting to start a revolution against the Originals. Why Little Miss Hayley Marshall hadn't left with him was much to be discussed, but it brought about a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that all wasn't rainbows and unicorns in the bitch's—pun intended—life.

She also hadn't expected the other perky blonde bartender making mooning eyes at the sole reason she was even there. There was a fair bit of touching, and perhaps a hair flip or two, but it was enough to garner a hostile warning; one that Camille O'Connell experienced the hard way after watching Klaus Mikaelson shove his tongue down Caroline's throat and practically take her on the counter. It was far was tasteful, and the customers received one heck of a show, but the crassness was worth it when the hybrid all but whooshed them out of Rousseau's and into his bed. She punished him for it, dangerously playing with his sanity as she continually brought him to the precipice, only to pull back with an easy smirk. Suffice to say, he had learnt his lesson.

In the weeks and months that followed, she discovered rather thoroughly what it meant to be associated to the man high on the wanted list of every witch, vampire and werewolf alike. Rebekah had laughed it off, claiming that she would get used to it eventually. Elijah had been the parental unit; both sympathetic yet indifferent to her plight. Kol had made one too many inappropriate advances and had his neck snapped more times than she could count. Marcel just plainly didn't like her for some reason—she was betting on a bout of superiority complex over Klaus—and Freya seemed dead set on being the oldest-sister-from-hell.

All in all, perhaps she should've stayed in Virginia.

Caroline groaned, draping an arm over her eyes.

She was tired; so tired.

"Are you alright, love?"

That damn accent still sent tingles up her spine; it was a miracle nobody had self-combusted just by hearing those syllables slither like warm honey past his sinful lips. He ought to come with a health-hazard label for every female population in the world; no wonder that psychology student had been so smitten. Caroline loathed that power he willed over her, and how he used it to his advantage at every point he could. He was her Kryptonite as much as she was his.

"I hate you," she muttered.

He chuckled; clearly amused by her petulant display, and it irked her even more when the sultry sound made her insides jump. The control he held over her was overwhelming, the way his musky scent inundated the space around her as he stepped through the threshold and crossed the room. She felt the dip in the mattress as he sat by her feet, yet she rejected the basic courtesy of looking at him, knowing that it would annoy the shit out of his manly ego.

"I beg to differ, but go ahead, why do you hate me this time?"

The smug bastard was humoring her in that infuriatingly condescending tone he usually ever reserved for his little sister or one of his unfortunate victims, and Caroline turned her face to glare at his undeniably handsome features. She regretted it immediately, because that blasted pair of dimples did unmentionable things to her—things she didn't want to admit out loud to herself or anyone else—and was about to tell him to shove it when he blurred right before her and steadfastly had her wrists in his vice-like grip, pinning her to the bed. His nose hovered inches away from hers, those bottomless blue eyes penetrating through the defenses she had built around her heart.

"Go on, sweetheart," he urged. "Is there a reason why I'm once again on the receiving end of your contempt?"

Caroline heaved an aggravated sigh and averted her gaze to the window, watching the curtains dance in the slight breeze. "This is the twelfth time since I've arrived that somebody had either tried to hurt me, kidnap me, torture me, or kill me just to get to you. It's not fun anymore, Klaus."

He regarded her solemnly, any traces of previous playfulness completely disappeared. "You knew what the consequences were when you chose to be with me."

"I didn't say that I regretted it," she bit back, offended that he would have such little confidence in her abilities. "Coming here was one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life, but perhaps you could send out a memo to the bajillion other people intent on destroying you that I'm on a vacation, and thus off-limits to their vengeful plans until further notice."

His responding grin could power up the entire French Quarter. "I'm afraid we evil villains don't take personal holidays. It's bad for the image, don't you think? Me sipping on a daiquiri with those little umbrellas whilst sunbathing in the Caribbeans."

"Between fanning off your hordes of admirers and dodging angry mobs, we barely even have time for a decent date without it being hijacked by yet another psycho with questionable motives."

Klaus leaned forward, his soft lips brushing feather-light against hers. "There's a private jet waiting to take us to Paris right now if you want."

She knew a ruse when she saw one.

"But…?"

"We need to make a short pit stop first."

Of course they did.

"Where to, exactly?"

He didn't even have the audacity to look apologetic about it.

"Mystic Falls."

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."

* * *

Predictably, it was back to being all about Elena and her perplexing doppelgänger blood, and really, hadn't that same old shit gone stale? Caroline wasn't even entirely sure why Klaus seemed so determined to have it, considering the brunette was currently a vampire, so shouldn't that sort of defeat the purpose, perhaps put a reset on the clock for another hundred years or so?

As it turned out, while Caroline had been busy down south, another dose of the cure had conveniently materialized for Her Majesty Lady Gilbert, and she was back to being the perfect human for both the Salvatore brothers to yet again yearn for and fight over. Honestly, it was one big soap opera mixed in with a crap load of _Twilight_ , and once again, Caroline found herself being sucked back into all that righteousness bull. They could judge her all they wanted, but she came in peace. All she needed was a vial of that precious blood and she would be on her way; no fuss, no resistance, and nobody would get hurt.

If only it was that simple.

Apparently, when a member of the Mikaelson family was in town, everybody within a ten-mile radius was alerted. It took Stefan a whole ten seconds to connect the dots when she showed up unannounced on the boarding house's doorstep with a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face. Even better—or worse, whichever—it took even lesser than that for the accusations to come hurling right back.

"How could you, Caroline?" her so-called friend all but demanded, not a single strand of hair out of place. "I'm your best friend!"

The baby vampire folded her arms across her chest and scoffed. "Best friend? Really? When was the last time you called or texted to check on me, Elena? Where were you when I needed _my_ best friend the most? I was there for you through everything; I supported you, I protected you, I died for you, but what do you care? I was nothing but a blonde distraction to save you—a convenience that you easily disposed of once I've served my purpose, isn't that so?"

Flanking Elena's sides like a pair of obedient dogs, Stefan and Damon grew silent.

"It's not like that and you know it—"

"You know what, Elena?" she snapped. "Save it. I'm done with your sorry production of friendship. Just give me what I need and I'll leave quietly."

"You're out of your damn mind, Barbie, if you think we're going to hand over Elena's blood to Klaus just so he could sire another army of his fucking hybrids," Damon spat out.

Caroline released a short bark of laughter at the absurdity of the situation. "That ship has long sailed, Damon," she injected his name with as much vermin as possible. "You would know if you stopped pining over Elena for two seconds and reconnect with the rest of the world. Perhaps a trip down to New Orleans would do you some good. I'm sure Enzo misses his Augustine companion."

"You've changed, Care," Elena whimpered. "What happened to you? How did you come to be on Klaus' side? He's done so many horrible things to me, to you, to all of us. He's not one of the good guys."

"Do you not hear yourself?" Caroline snorted. "Wake up, Elena, all of us here has done horrible things before. You went on a rampage the first few days you were turned, Stefan was the fucking Ripper, and Damon used me as his personal blood bag and sex toy, and you have never stopped to think that we're all no better than Klaus Mikaelson?"

"Klaus is an Original!"

"And I'm a vampire, but that means little to me right now."

Stefan took a defensive step closer to the alleged love of his life. "We're not giving you Elena's blood, Caroline."

She was tired; so tired of everyone's inert need to coddle the other girl as though she was an invalid. Even when she had been a blood-sucking creature, there was never an inadequacy in love for the brunette. Did nothing ever change in this God-forsaken town?

"Suit yourself, then," she shrugged. "I tried my best; thought it would be the polite thing to do to ask nicely." Unnecessarily, she raised her voice. "They're all yours, Klaus."

The hybrid sauntered into the room with his hands clasped behind his back, looking entirely too pleased with himself, and Caroline had to repress the urge to rip his clothes off when he aimed an impish grin in her direction. She kept her composure though, as he came up behind her and wound his arms around her slim waist before tilting his head to drop a chaste peck on her cheek.

"Thank you, love. I think I'll take it from here."

"Don't be too long," she huffed. "I plan to get to Paris before dawn."

 **I need a voice to echo  
I need a light to take me home  
I kinda need a hero  
Is it you?**

* * *

France was sublime, and yet, she still managed to fuck it up. Cocooned in the safety of her lover's warm embrace, Caroline peeked out of the window at the unhindered view of the Eiffel Tower bathed in the picturesque morning sunrise. Quietly, in the midst of the tranquility, he stirred, the prickly sensation of his stubble scratching against her cheek.

 **I never see the forest for the trees  
I could really use your melody  
Baby I'm a little blind  
I think it's time for you to find me**

"Morning, love."

His rich baritone, still husky from the lack of use, caressed her like soft velvet, but her annoyingly vocal mind was much too preoccupied to notice the way his hand slid tantalizingly between her thighs.

"Klaus…"

He hummed into the juncture beneath her jaw as his fingers chased after traces of her arousal.

"Why won't you tell me the reason you needed Elena's blood?"

He stilled, tension instantly filling his rippling muscles, and before she could turn to properly face him, Klaus tore himself away from her and hopped out of bed, leaving her cold and empty beneath the cotton sheets. He painted an ironic image; the Big Bad in all his naked glory, looking breathtakingly rumpled and unfairly gorgeous against the scenic backdrop. Still, in his deceptively calm demeanor, Caroline noticed the tightly clenched fists by his sides and how his lips were pressed together in a thin line, like he was mustering everything he had not to fly off the rails.

Shit.

Nervously, she tugged at the duvet, clutching it close to her chest.

"You don't trust me."

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"By your lack of a response, I take it that I'm right on that assumption." His words were laced with so much poison; he might as well have doused her with a pool of vervain, and Caroline reflexively flinched, still not quite familiar with being on the receiving end of his wrath. "What are you doing here, then? Why are you still here with me, for fuck's sake? In all the months since you've arrived in New Orleans, you never once told me why you came in the first place."

Fuck this. She wasn't there to be interrogated like one of his prisoners.

"I was under the impression that your offer still stood, Klaus. I didn't think I needed a valid reason to take you up on it; apparently I was wrong," she rose to her feet and uttered through gritted teeth. "Besides, I can say the same for you. I guess I know now where your confidence in my loyalties stand."

"I'm doing this to protect you, Caroline!"

The ringing silence that followed was deafening.

 **Can you be my nightingale?**

Two stubborn individuals—both so set in their ways, both so different, yet so much alike—neither one willing to back down first. She wasn't one of his sired minions, ready to bend to his fucking whims at the drop of a hat, so if he wanted her submission, he would have to do a little more than wait for her to hand it over on a silver platter.

 **Sing to me  
I know you're there**

He stalked towards her, the gait of a predator, before sweeping her up in his arms and hauling her flushed up against his front. A harsh gasp escaped her gaping mouth as the covers fell unceremoniously onto the carpet, her undead heart pattering like a damn machine gun when he released a carnal growl next to her ear. One hand wound itself in her silky tresses, the other digging almost painfully into her sides, and Caroline feared he might not make it out of this unscathed.

"Everything I'm doing right now is for you, Caroline," he sneered. "Only for you."

She believed him.

So help her God, there was so much faith lost in her life, but she believed him.

 **You could be my sanity  
But bring me peace  
Sing me to sleep**

Her lips bore down hot and urgent upon his, capturing them, seizing them with a searing need that only he could satiate. She possessed his pliant mouth with bruising kisses, investing everything she couldn't say with the way she skillfully swept her tongue across his blunt teeth, and then ploughed through to taste the entrapping sweetness of his inner crevice. He resisted just for a split second to torment her, smirking when she protested until he took pity and unleashed the true potential of his prowess. She was lost to the capacity of his hunger as he positively tore at her like a man dying of thirst would at the sight of an oasis.

In one swift maneuver, he scooped her up in his embrace. Locking her toned legs around his tapered hips, Klaus slammed her up against the nearest wall and pinned her with a poignant thrust, burying himself so deep within her, she felt as though he was splitting her in two. His name was all but a strangled cry as she desperately clawed onto the wide expanse of his back in an attempt to anchor herself down. He pounded into her with little to no finesse; the primal grunts he released into her collarbone accompanied the hot puffs of air on her dewy ivory skin.

Caroline threw her head back when he latched onto her breast, laving and suckling, his tongue deftly circling a nipple. He kept at the ardent pace, plunging in and out of her without leniency or shameful regards to their fellow hotel residents, his focus solely on her, those striking cerulean blue orbs penetrating into the recesses of her soul as he coaxed her into oblivion. Steadily, she climbed higher. The all-consuming pleasure threatened to swallow her whole, and still it wasn't enough.

Her fangs descended and his eyes flashed golden.

The instant his exquisite blood gushed down her throat and coated her palate like nectar, she shattered around him.

 **Say you'll be my nightingale**

* * *

Trouble awaited them back home, and before she knew it, she was once again the sacrificial lamb in an elaborate scheme to end the family of Originals. Honestly, was there no honor left in the world? Ambushing her in a grocery store was just lame, but damn that werewolf bite stung like fuck. She woke up in a moving van—how cliché—gagged and tied up with vervain-soaked ropes. The two goons who were keeping a close watch had guns trained on her, and she wasn't even going to bother putting up a fight, because the outcome was always the same.

 **Somebody speak to me  
Cause I'm feeling like hell  
Need you to answer me  
I'm overwhelmed**

Hallucinations were a bitch; she never had the same delusions more than once, which made it practically impossible to predict a pattern. Nothing about her was left untouched—her fears, her hopes, her dreams, her emotions—they were stripped bare during those vulnerable moments as she teetered on the brink of delirium.

"We can't afford to screw this up, Tyler."

Drowsily, with the venom working properly in her system, Caroline strained her ears as she picked up on some familiar voices.

"This is a really bad idea, Hayley." Hearing her ex-boyfriend utter the she-wolf's name with a degree of frustration ought to give her a semblance of satisfaction, but she couldn't be anymore assed to care. "You're going to get the whole pack annihilated if she dies."

"She's not going to die. He'll be here," the woman replied with outmost conviction. "Caroline's way too precious to him, that little blonde sunshine who farts rainbows and daisies out of that pert little ass."

Even in her less-than-stellar state, the vampire could manage an amused snort. Collecting colorful expletives was she and Klaus' new side hobby. It made for great material when he dished out threats to his unsuspecting victims.

"She's a liability."

"That's the whole fucking point," she hissed. "Do you want to be stuck in the Appalachians for the rest of your life? Think about your daughter, the pack, me! I can't be doing everything around here; I'm not Wonder Woman."

"Alright, alright, relax, okay?" Tyler placated. "You'll burst a blood vessel if you continue like this."

An involuntary laugh flew out of her mouth, the last one she would have in a long while.

Minutes dragged on and crawled for what seemed like an eternity.

 **I need a voice to echo  
I need a light to take me home  
I need a star to follow  
I don't know**

Perhaps this was really the end of the road for her.

Her breathing turned shallow, her consciousness precariously slipping away.

And then the world turned black.

 **I never see the forest for the trees  
I could really use your melody  
Baby I'm a little blind  
I think it's time for you to find me**

* * *

Caroline was tired; so tired, she felt nothing but the soreness in her muscles and the dull weight in her limbs. She was parched. Her mouth had dried up like sandpaper, her tongue lacking in moisture as she ran it over her cracked lips. Each tiny twitch grated against her bones, and fuck, did someone run her over with a truck? Groaning at the immense effort it took to lift her eyelids, she slowly blinked away the fuzziness clouding her vision.

It took her a while to register the sight.

Niklaus Mikaelson was fast asleep on his stomach, his face turned towards her, his features smooth and serene with one arm thrown protectively over her torso. In all the time she had been in New Orleans, Caroline couldn't recall ever seeing him deep in a slumber. Sure, there were the occasional short naps, but never before was she granted such a privilege of seeing him so unguarded.

 **Can you be my nightingale?**

She afforded a faint smile, gingerly extending the hand nearest to him so that she could stroke a finger down the line of his nose and trace the seams of his full lips. Her touch automatically woke him up, and then Caroline found herself being accosted by the sheer intensity of his unwavering stare. His eyes roamed her visage, scrutinizing every line and contour, almost as if he was searching for something he might or might not be able to find.

"That was a close call, Klaus."

He tightened his hold on her.

"You almost died on me," he croaked. "That's unacceptable, love."

 **Sing to me  
I know you're there**

She shrugged her shoulders to dispel the tension that had suddenly permeated the space between them. "I'm jeopardy-friendly, what can I say?"

"Perhaps I should keep you on a leash."

"I find the kinky shit to be more of Kol's territory."

He easily caught onto her game. "Well then, I guess I'll have to find some other use for the collar, the whip and the handcuffs."

The cheeky bastard.

However, just as quickly as the mood came, it was gone as he gravely held her in place.

"It can't happen again, Caroline."

 **You could be my sanity  
But bring me peace  
Sing me to sleep**

She cocked a defiant eyebrow. "It won't."

"Good," he nodded. "Because I'm making damn sure of that."

 **Say you'll be my nightingale**

* * *

Basically, she didn't like the way the slutty redhead was drooling all over her hybrid and ogling him like a fresh piece of meat just waiting to be devoured. For a brief moment, Caroline wondered if Klaus would mind it too much if she gouged the witch's eyeballs after she was done with the blood-binding ritual. It would serve her right—the whore whose name resembled a dishwashing detergent—and then just for the kicks, maybe she might even consider snapping her neck.

"If I were you, I would refrain from the murderous tendencies till after, sweetheart," he crooned. "We do need Genevieve in one piece for this, after all."

She ought to knee him in the balls.

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight, buddy."

* * *

Rather disappointingly, Caroline didn't feel any different than she did before all that magical mambo-jumbo. Witches were quite a dramatic bunch, and she wasn't surprised if half of what that wench did were simply for theatrical purposes, especially the part where she had her grubby hands all over Klaus' abs, practically groping him right there in front of her.

"Is that it?" she asked dubiously.

Genevieve heaved a condescending sigh. "You're supposed to do that blood-sharing thing now."

Caroline studied the less-than-ideal location in distaste. "Do you have a bed we can use?"

"Why do you need a bed?" the witch scowled.

"I'm not having sex with Klaus on this dirty ground, and as much as I love doing it against the wall, I'm pretty positive that there are bats peeing in this cave."

Her forehead creased in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Klaus effectively cut into their pointless conversation. "What she means is, the blood-sharing usually occurs during sex."

The brilliant shade of red that filled Genevieve's cheeks matched that of her hair. "Oh," she coughed. "Well, then, please, don't stop on my account."

"Not a chance, missy," Caroline retorted, planting one hand on her hip. "You're going to wait outside. No point fuelling those dirty fantasies of yours any more than what your imagination can handle."

"Such a party pooper."

* * *

Caroline watched in awe as the wound promptly healed; the spot where she had been intentionally bitten by one of Klaus' werewolves was devoid of any scars or lingering traces of the venom. She beamed in delight and did the embarrassingly juvenile thing by squealing and bouncing on her toes. Mockingly sharing in her exuberance, Kol did a gleeful jig around her, hooting and howling like a fucking lunatic. It stopped abruptly when Rebekah sneakily extended her leg and effectively sent him sprawling on the floor.

"You're a right bitch, Bekah."

She nonchalantly sipped on the champagne in her hand. "Not all of us thrive as idiots, Kol."

"Congratulations, Niklaus," Freya announced her presence as she sashayed into the room. "You've just rid yourself of a dreadful burden. Perhaps now she'll finally leave us alone."

It wasn't a polite request—more a strict demand—as she oldest Mikaelson pointedly eyed her with barely-concealed disdain. Caroline frowned; folding her arms across her chest and jutting her chin out, because there was no way in fucking hell was she going to allow a prissy witch to bully her around.

"I'm sorry, who invited you to the party?"

"Unlike you, Blondie, I don't need an invitation to step through the door."

"That's quite enough, Freya," Klaus sternly interrupted his sister. "Caroline is here to stay. You can choose to deal with it or quietly make your exit."

The bitterness etched in the woman's features was quite entertaining, if not for the fact that she seemed about ready to give everybody in the room an aneurysm of epic proportions, but then Freya turned to the other three Originals in the room. Elijah sat at a corner idly reading the newspaper, almost oblivious to the ridiculous scene unfolding before him. Rebekah had always been a decent ally, and Kol just loved riling people up, so it became plainly obvious that Freya was alone in her discord.

"She'll never be one of us, Nik," she huffed. "Why are you even keeping her around?"

"She has surprisingly great taste in clothes," Rebekah quipped. "Have you seen her shoe collection?"

"She doesn't kick me in the nuts when I shamelessly hit on her," Kol added with a wink and a shit-eating grin that earned him a growl from his older brother. "Have you seen her legs?"

"What about you, Elijah?"

"My opinion wouldn't make a difference, Freya," he lazily replied. "But she is the only one who seems to appreciate my suits."

Klaus' irresistible dimples made their honorary appearance. "I don't think you need my input, dear sister."

"She's not a Mikaelson!"

"I strongly intend to remedy that as well."

"What?"

Caroline's voice came out as a breathless whisper. Surely he didn't mean what she thought he meant, did he?

 **I don't know what I'd do without you  
Your words are like a whisper cutting through  
As long as you are with me here tonight  
I'm good**

She turned to his siblings for confirmation, but the resentment painted on Freya's face spoke volumes.

"Nik…"

Rebekah was the one to break the silence looming over them. Caroline felt the room spin and the heaviness settle in her chest, and she was convinced that she had misheard him, had misread his intentions, until he came to stand inches from her and delicately cupped the column of her neck between his palms. His thumbs trailed the line of her jaw.

"You don't have to agree to it now, love," he spoke so tenderly that she felt the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. "One day, in a year, in a decade, in a century, when you're ready, I'll be here waiting."

That wasn't in the plan.

Or any plans for that matter.

"I—I…" She couldn't get the syllables out fast enough. "I have to go."

* * *

Like a coward, she fled. Her mother would've been disappointed, but technically, she wasn't there, and Caroline desperately needed to distance herself before she suffocated on her own insecurities. Blindly, she reached for everything she could get her hands on—clothes, essentials, car key—and it wasn't until she was at a crossroad, contemplating whether she should head left or right, that the gravity of the situation truly sank in. The steering wheel bent under her unrelenting grip, but she scarcely noticed it as she squeezed her eyes shut and screamed.

Why was he doing this to her?

The way he showered her with wonderful promises was so foreign to the girl whom nobody had ever thought twice about; much less pledge an eternity to. The commitment Klaus was so willing to hand over left her baffled and apprehensive. It didn't make sense; why would a thousand-year-old hybrid want anything to do with a baby vampire? He could have the entire world at his feet; powerful allegiances and influential collaborators, but he chose to spend his time with her.

"Were you planning on taking off without saying goodbye?"

"Jesus Christ!" she gasped, flinching in her seat.

His roguishly handsome face split into a lopsided grin. "No, no, not Jesus, it's just old me."

Was he there to kill her?

Caroline's eyes narrowed to slits. "You made a joke."

"Clearly, I've also made a mistake." The playfulness drained away as he regarded her with an earnestness that nearly broke her into a million pieces. "I didn't mean to frighten you, Caroline. I just—I wanted—I needed you and everybody else to know what my desires are with you. You're not merely a passing fancy; I've told you once before that I intend to be your last. That hasn't changed, however long it takes."

 **Can you be my nightingale?**

"You terrify me, Klaus," she told him, averting her gaze away because his stunning blue eyes were making it incredibly hard to focus. "Everything you are; everything you represent."

"Wasn't that why you came?"

 **Feels so close  
I know you're there**

She darted her tongue out to wet her dry lips. "I was in an uncertain place. My friends neglected me. They only saw me as a tool of distraction to get what they wanted, and when I had served my purpose, I became invisible to everyone around me. After a while, I grew tired of it; grew tired of being the backdrop to Elena Gilbert's story. I wanted to write my own, and you were the perfect opportunity."

"And now you're afraid that I'm trapping you here?"

Fuck, sometimes he knew her way too well.

"I haven't lived a thousand years yet, Klaus."

"You're really going to make me wait that long?"

Caroline shot him a look, but before she could say anything else, he leaned across the gearshift and brushed her mouth with his. Applying the barest of pressure, he languidly took his time with the kiss, capturing her bottom lip between his to give it the slightest suction, and she felt her breath hitch. Reluctantly, he pulled away, only to rest his forehead against hers.

 **Oh, nightingale  
You sing to me  
I know you're there  
'Cause baby you're my sanity**

"Go, have adventures, see the world," he murmured. "Just come back to me."

She couldn't help the wide smile that spread across her features.

"You're letting me go?"

He wound one finger around a loose curl and gave it a small tug. "I'm just letting you know that you're not stuck here. You're not a bird in a gilded cage; you're free to fly."

Those words meant more to her than he would ever know, because she knew that he was forsaking his selfishness to put her happiness first. The man who had the ability to bring thousands to their knees just by existing—who could cripple empires with a simple command, who could instill such chilling fear with a single glare—would allow her such a privilege of deciding her own destiny; this beast that many were convinced didn't possess a heart and basic humanity.

 **You bring me peace  
Sing me to sleep**

"I'll be back," she promised.

 **Say you'll be my nightingale**

"I'm counting on it."

* * *

 **A/N:** The End. Hope you're happy Sneakercladbrunette! You're evil! Also, I totally stole a line from Secret Diary of a Call Girl, so you better be thankful!

Song used: "Nightingale" by Demi Lovato


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